


on the eve

by Thealmostrhetoricalquestion



Series: A Series of Completely Unrelated Festive Stories [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Also Narcissa is thirsty af, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Embarassing Baby Photos, F/M, First Christmas Together as Boyfriends, Fluff and Humor, Kisses, M/M, Malfoy Family Feels, Meet the Family, Over-Protective Draco Malfoy, Soft Boys, Tipsy!Narcissa, adorKable boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 12:57:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12935778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thealmostrhetoricalquestion/pseuds/Thealmostrhetoricalquestion
Summary: “And this is the one of Scorpius in his wellies,” Astoria says, flipping the page and cooing. Al leans over to look, an evil grin lighting up his face. The photograph features a three-year-old Scorpius, stark naked in the sprawling Manor gardens, hands covered in mud and a philosophical look on his face. A pair of bright red wellies sit on his feet, covered in moving ducks. Scorpius watches as the three-year-old him examines his dirty palms and then brushes them off, before bending down to plunge his hands back in the muddy puddle.A snigger escapes Al, and he quickly shoves a fist in his mouth to stifle it.“Mum, please,” Scorpius says stiffly, cheeks growing pink.





	on the eve

**Author's Note:**

> Scorbus! Can never have too much Scorbus! Just some cute fluff for their first Christmas together. Hope you enjoy it! Thank you!

“And this is the one of Scorpius in his wellies,” Astoria says, flipping the page and cooing. Al leans over to look, an evil grin lighting up his face. The photograph features a three-year-old Scorpius, stark naked in the sprawling Manor gardens, hands covered in mud and a philosophical look on his face. A pair of bright red wellies sit on his feet, covered in moving ducks. Scorpius watches as the three-year-old him examines his dirty palms and then brushes them off, before bending down to plunge his hands back in the muddy puddle. 

A snigger escapes Al, and he quickly shoves a fist in his mouth to stifle it. 

“Mum, please,” Scorpius says stiffly, cheeks growing pink. 

Astoria isn’t as innocently oblivious as she pretends to be, Scorpius knows this for certain. He knows this because the photo album was sequestered away in the loft earlier this week, and she must have only brought it out today, when Scorpius casually mentioned only this morning that, oh yes, he was bringing Albus around for Christmas Eve dinner, for their first Christmas together as boyfriends. He winces as he remembers his parents’ mutinous expressions. This, Scorpius knows, is his mother’s revenge. 

“This is my favourite, however,” Astoria continues, ignoring Scorpius’s plight. Scorpius chews anxiously on the rubber ring tucked onto his forefinger; he knows exactly which photograph this is, and he’s dreading Al’s reaction. 

“I think dad might be calling for dinner,” Scorpius says hurriedly, but Astoria simply flaps a hand, and Al glances up to wink at him before returning his attention to the photo album. 

The page turns, and Al’s face goes blank. Then he collapses back against the sofa in a fit of hysterical laughter, mulled wine sloshing over the edge of his glass as he flails about helplessly, cackling loudly. Scorpius hopes his mother might say something droll about the spilled wine on the carpet, but she actually looks delighted by his reaction. Scorpius leans closer to get a look at the photo album, and sure enough, it’s the picture he feared would be there. 

A five-year-old Scorpius prances happily down the Manor hallway, wobbling in a pair of red high heels. A sparkling silver top doubles as a dress on his tiny frame, and his mother’s handbag sits in the crook of his elbow. Bright red lipstick is smeared over the bottom half of his face. Scorpius suppresses a groan and reaches forward to snap the photo album closed, wrestling it away from his mother, who gives it up with a wide smile. Her eyes are dancing wickedly, and Scorpius sighs, a wry tilt to his mouth. He can never stay mad at her for too long. 

“I think your dad really is calling for dinner,” Astoria says, taking mercy on him and standing up. She brushes off her dress – a soft, flattering red with gold flecks – and strides from the room with a little beckoning wave. 

Scorpius sighs and sets the photo album aside, eyeing his cackling boyfriend. “You can stop flailing around now.”

Al wipes his eyes and sits up, a large grin plastered all over his face. He sets his glass down on the side-table and stands, taking a running leap and landing in Scorpius’s lap. Scorpius falls back with a startled oomph and brings his hands up automatically to brace Al’s hips. Al leans forward and presses a soft, apologetic kiss to Scorpius’s lips, and Scorpius kisses him back gently. 

“You’ve had too much mulled wine,” Scorpius says, grinning. 

“No such thing. And I, personally, think you looked very sophisticated in high heels,” Al says. 

“I could re-enact it, but I doubt the outcome would be the same,” Scorpius says drily. He pats Al’s hip and then shoves him off, watching him stumble back in amusement, trying to get his feet under him. Al shoots him a playful scowl, and Scorpius holds his hands up innocently. Al grabs one of them and hauls him up, and they both exit the sitting room and start off down the corridor. 

“At least it wasn’t awkward with your mum,” Al muses. “I was expecting us sat around the living room in silence, drinking way too much alcohol and occasionally talking about the weather. But she was nice. Evil, but nice. Your dad, on the other hand…”

Scorpius smiles. Draco had taken one look at Al, dressed in jeans and a bright red Christmas jumper with a light-up reindeer on the front, and gone a strange shade of green. Scorpius didn’t even know that Malfoy’s could go green, but apparently they could, when pressed to the breaking point. 

“He doesn’t think anyone’s good enough for me, so he’s a bit hard on any boyfriends I may or may not have,” Scorpius says fondly. 

Al gives him a curious look. “Have you brought any home before?”

“Once, when I was seven,” Scorpius admits. “I think he vowed never to return, and the next day he stole my juice in the playground.”

“So, I shouldn’t be jealous, then?”

Scorpius laughs, leading Al into the dining room. Draco is in the middle of re-arranging the centrepieces down the middle of the long, oak table that takes up most of the room. It’s a bit ridiculous, in Scorpius’s opinion, to have a table this long when there are only three people living in the house, but at least Draco’s learned, and only one half of the table is actually set up with cutlery and plates. 

“Aunt Hermione would go ballistic,” Al mutters, watching several elves totter around with heavy platters full of food. 

“Granger has already lectured me on the mistreatment of elves,” Draco says, leaning over to tweak an arrangement of holly garlands around a lit candle. “My elves wear socks at all times and get a wage of one galleon a week. They even get bloody holidays, if they want them.”

Al snorts, and then asks, with faux-innocence, “Do the socks have candy canes on them?” 

Scorpius elbows him sharply in the ribs, watching his dad grit his teeth. 

“Christmas puddings, actually,” Draco says. “Speaking of, Scorpius, would you grab that and bring it up this end of the table?”

He points at the Christmas pudding at the far end of the table, and Scorpius glances warily between Al and his dad. He inches down the length of the room, taking note of Al’s widening eyes as Draco leans over the table to mutter something to him, and halfway across the room Scorpius simply summons the Christmas pudding and watches it zoom up the table to rest on a placemat, before dashing back to Al’s side. 

“There we are,” Scorpius says. “All done. We’re just going to sit down now.”

He drags Al over to a seat and pulls it out for him with an exaggerated bow, sweeping off an invisible hat. Al mouths the word _dork_ at him before curtseying gracefully and sitting down, and Scorpius catches his dad looking at him warmly through his own laughter. 

Al looks down the table incredulously and says, “They do know there’s only four of us, don’t they?”

There are bowls of brussels sprouts, carrots, peas and buttered parsnips, plates of beef wellington, little pots of cranberry sauce, platters of pigs in blankets and mince pies in abundance. Six elves are trembling under the weight of an entire cider-soaked ham. 

“Five of us, actually,” Astoria says, bustling in with a flurry of elves at her heels. “Although I can’t actually find her.”

Scorpius frowns. “Who else is here? You’re not counting the crup, are you?”

“You have a crup?” Al looks surprised and delighted, glancing around the room as though Nimbus might suddenly appear. 

“ _Draco_ has a crup,” Astoria corrects tartly, and Draco glances away shiftily. Scorpius mouths _I’ll tell you later_ at Al’s curious expression, and Astoria continues, “And no, I wasn’t counting the crup. I was talking about your grandmother.”

“Grandma’s here?” Scorpius says, delighted. “Has she had any alcohol yet?” 

Draco coughs to hide his laughter, and Astoria sighs, rolling her eyes. “Yes, she’s here. I have no idea where she is, though. Any thoughts, darling?”

“Probably in my study,” Draco says, frowning. Then he brightens considerably, his eyes flicking to Al, who suddenly looks rather interested in the patterns on his goblet. “Scorpius, why don’t you go and fetch her?” 

Scorpius scowls at him, but Draco remains unmoved. He makes a little shooing gesture with his hands, and Scorpius stares pointedly at Al before giving another warning look to his dad, who simply smiles benignly. Scorpius stomps from the room, determined to be quick, and as the door swings shut behind him, he hears Draco ask, “So, Albus…” and winces. 

The halls of the manor are decorated with sprigs of holly and long, trailing garlands covered in gold baubles. Scorpius navigates them with ease, waving at a few of the solemn-looking portraits, who brighten a little and wave in return. He hums the latest weird sister’s song as he winds his way through the halls, until he comes to his dad’s study. 

He slips inside and smiles at the sight of Narcissa curled up by the roaring fire, feet propped up on a footstool, her long skirt trailing on the floor. The sparkling bangles around her wrist jangle slightly as she turns a page of her book, a glass of something strong and amber resting loosely in her other hand. She glances up as Scorpius pads closer on socked feet, and a warm smile spreads across her face. 

“Scorpius, love, how wonderful to see you.” Scorpius leans down to kiss her cheek, and she puts her book down on the side-table. Scorpius catches sight of the cover and blushes slightly. Narcissa follows his gaze and then laughs lightly, the sound echoing like tinkling bells. 

“I suppose it’s a little raunchy for a family Christmas party,” she says, winking. “I’d best leave it here for your father to find later. I do so enjoy giving him a headache.” 

Scorpius laughs and offers her a hand up. “He always goes to bed early when you visit.” 

“And I consider every visit a success. My, you’ve grown,” Narcissa says, patting his cheek as she stands. They make their way out of the study as she chatters on about her volunteer work, and Andromeda, and the dashing young man she met at the theatre the other night. 

“He was _quite_ pert, and I rather enjoyed the show. Of course, the theatre performance was adequate too.”

Scorpius covers his eyes, laughing helplessly. “Grandma, please.”

“Of course, from what I’ve heard, you’d know all about pert young men,” Narcissa teases. “How is young Albus?”

“He’s probably run for the hills by now,” Scorpius groans. “I left him alone with my parents. Not voluntarily, of course, but dad insisted I come and find you. You couldn’t have hidden somewhere closer, could you?”

“They must have their revenge for you telling them on such short notice,” Narcissa says, eyes twinkling. “Your father would not stop whining on about it at afternoon tea. I tried to ply him with scones to get him to be quiet, but it didn’t work, so I simply told him to his face.”

“Politely, of course,” Scorpius says, grinning as he pictures the moment. 

“Naturally. Now, I’m sure it won’t be all bad. That boy loves you to pieces, and I’m sure your parents can see that.”

Scorpius eyes her suspiciously. “How do you know he loves me?”

“Your father is not the only one I take afternoon tea with. Harry is quite a gossip when he wants to be, and apparently Albus gushes about you. A lot.”

With that, Narcissa pushes open the doors to the dining room, leaving Scorpius in the hallway, gaping after her. He catches sight of Al’s pleading expression through the doorway and shakes himself, hurrying in and skidding to a stop beside Al before his grandma can steal the seat. Al grabs his hand as soon as he sits down and grips it tightly, looking slightly shaken. 

“Did you survive?” Scorpius whispers. 

“Barely,” Al says, out of the corner of his mouth. “Your dad is intense when it comes to you.”

Scorpius casts a glare across the table, but Draco is too busy trying to subtly wrestle the wine bottle away from Narcissa to notice.

“Leave your mother alone, Draco, darling, and do sit down before everything gets cold.” Astoria waves her wand, and the candles all flicker to life. The record player bursts to life in the corner, and Narcissa pointedly summons another bottle of wine from the kitchen while Draco sighs exasperatedly. Scorpius squeezes Al’s hand, kisses his cheek, and tucks in. 

“So, Albus,” Narcissa says, and Scorpius freezes with a ladle full of carrots halfway to his plate. “Scorpius tells me you’re on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team at Hogwarts.”

Scorpius breathes a sigh of relief, and Al nods cautiously. 

Narcissa’s smile widens. “Tell me, is that good-looking young man still the new Quidditch coach? The one with the abnormally tight trousers and the splendid rear end?”

At the head of the table, Draco spits out his peas. 

*

Scorpius leans against the balcony railing, letting the cool night air wash over him. The night’s going well, and Scorpius can’t help but be relieved. He had expected a lot of awkwardness, a few stilted conversations, maybe even some coldness, but everyone was relatively well-behaved, considering. 

It’s possible that he’s a little tense about the whole thing, but it’s their first Christmas together as boyfriends, and Scorpius wants it to be perfect. 

Al slips out onto the balcony with a little wave. He’s wearing the scarf he just unwrapped as a Christmas present from Scorpius’s parents, and it makes his eyes look very green. Scorpius darts forward to give him a quick kiss, and then rears back when he spots the ball of fluff bundled up in Al’s arms. 

“You found him, then?” Scorpius laughs. “I knew he wouldn’t be able to hide from you. It’s like you have a sixth sense when it comes to dogs.”

“He was under the table the whole time,” Al admits sheepishly. “I was feeding him bits of beef wellington.” 

Scorpius rolls his eyes and leans forward to kiss him again, just once, for being adorable. 

“So, are you going to tell me the story about this little guy?” Al gestures a little with Nimbus, who makes a disgruntled sound and jumps from Al’s arms, trotting back through the glass doors and jumping up onto Draco’s lap. Al watches him leave, dismayed.

Scorpius snorts a laugh and reaches for Al’s hand, tugging him closer and curling an arm around his waist. “There, there. Rejection can be difficult, I know, but you’ll get through this trying time.”

Al shoves him slightly before leaning in to rest his head on Scorpius’s shoulder, sending a flare of warmth up his spine. His hand tightens on Al’s waist, pulling him impossibly closer. They watch fairies flit around the Manor gardens for a while, flecks of soft amber light in the deep darkness, and then Al elbows him gently. 

“Come on, then. Tell me the Malfoy pet drama.”

“Hmm? Oh, that.” Scorpius laughs. “It’s nothing interesting. Mum wanted a crup for ages, but dad was always talking about how messy they are and how much work they take, and how they shed everywhere, and need walks all the time. He even pretended to be allergic for a while, but Grandma outed him as a liar.”

Al tilts his head slightly to look up at him, eyes curious and soft, loving. Scorpius clears his throat, a blush spreading over his cheeks. 

“Uh, anyway. He kept going on about it for years, but mum kept casually mentioning it and bringing up how nice it would be to have a crup around the house, and eventually he caved and they went and picked out Nimbus. And, uh, dad is basically Nimbus’s favourite. He doesn’t really like mum at all. He eats her shoes and pulls on the lead, but he’s an angel for dad, and dad loves him so much. Sometimes I feel like I’ve been replaced.”

“That sounds like something out of the sit-coms my dad watches when he’s supposed to be doing paperwork,” Al muses. “How quickly do you think your dad will come after me when I steal the family dog?” 

“I don’t think you’d make it off the grounds.”

Al sighs. “What will we call our dog, do you reckon? Not Nimbus, though, that’s unoriginal.”

“Hey!” Scorpius says indignantly. “I picked that name. It’s a _classic_ , and—”

And then Al’s words hit him. _Our dog._ He feels his mouth drop open before he can stop it, and Al glances up at him curiously when he suddenly stops speaking. It’s not exactly a revelation of sorts, but the idea of Al thinking about their future, maybe planning a life together, hits him hard. He snaps his mouth shut quickly and averts his gaze, a small, unbidden smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“What’s that look for?” Al asks, looking suspicious. From inside, there’s a bout of Astoria’s laughter, and the sound of Draco swearing. Undoubtedly Grandma has said something rude, then, Scorpius muses. 

“Nothing,” Scorpius says, and then, since he can’t help himself, “Hey, yeah, since when are we getting a dog together?”

Al goes a very bright red and looks away, muttering under his breath. 

“What was that?” Scorpius asks, cupping a hand over his ear. “I couldn’t quite hear you.”

“Shut up,” Al says, and then he pushes him back against the railing and kisses the hell out of him. As far as methods of shutting him up go, Scorpius thinks this is his favourite. He doesn’t even mind that Al utilises it quite a lot. He pulls Al closer, wrapping his arms around his waist and rubbing circles on the small of Al’s back. Al shifts in his arms, dragging his hands through his hair and drawing him down to kiss him deeper. 

“That’s quite enough of that, thank you very much.”

Scorpius rears back and shoves on instinct, and Al goes flying backwards with a shocked noise. Scorpius unfreezes and catches him before he can fall on his arse, but it’s a close thing. 

Draco crosses his arms from the doorway, looking severely unimpressed. “Your grandmother wants to play Exploding Snap, of all things. I told her you’d be right in.” He gives them both a pointed stare until Scorpius rolls his eyes and starts moving, sliding his hand down Al’s arm until they’re holding hands. 

“Is this acceptable?” He waggles their joined hands. 

Draco smirks. “I suppose I’ll allow it. Now, come and help me hide the firewhiskey from your grandmother. I refuse to end the night with a drunken game of charades.”

“I would pay to see that,” Al says, and Draco snorts before he can help it. Al beams triumphantly, and Draco glares at them both before stalking back inside. 

“Five more minutes,” he calls in warning. “And if you get any closer together, I’ll spray you with the hose.” 

“Merlin,” Scorpius complains, tugging Al closer anyway. “C’mon, let’s go inside. We can watch grandma singe dad’s eyebrows off in Exploding Snap and then pretend it was an accident for the rest of the night.”

Al looks alarmed. “Has that happened before?”

Scorpius grins, leans down to kiss him quickly before pulling him towards the doors. “Maybe once or twice.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ahh, hope you liked it. Please leave a comment/kudos if you did, and let me know what you thought, I'd love to hear from you. And come say hey @Thealmostrhetoricalquestion on tumblr! Thank you so much :)


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